Bang, Bang
by Toris-96
Summary: (Secret Agent AU) After the French and British Secret Intelligencies create a program to work together, Francis and Arthur are set up to become partners. But, the cooperation between the two agencies may not last…(Rated T for violence)(FrUK)
_I was five and he was six…_

* * *

Francis stood with the other French children in a line, all spaced out so that they had some room. It was time for sparring just as always at noon, what was different, however, was the set of unrecognizable people on the other side of the room, standing across from them. The other boys and girls wore black, loose-fitting uniforms, similar to Francis' white one, but instead of the beautiful French flag on their right shoulder, it was a Union Jack.

"Class," Their sparring instructor called, gaining Francis' and his fellow students attention, "We have some guests today, as you may have noticed." The instructor moved to the middle of the line so everyone could see him, "They are from Britain, who we have created a program with to bring our secret intelligences together. You will be assigned to one of the young British agents, and if you work well together, you will stay with each other until perhaps into your adult careers." The instructor cleared his throat and finished, "I am going to talk with them real quick, stay put and no talking."

Francis did what he was told, just as he was told to do it, for there was no breaking rules or disobeying orders, not unless you wanted to clean the men's restroom by yourself. But, he couldn't help himself from smiling out of excitement. He had never met someone who wasn't French before. He wondered where from Britain his partner was. England probably, but what if he was Scottish? Francis hoped so, always thought that Scottish accents were funny.

Francis' thoughts were interrupted again by his instructor, "Alright, everyone, come to me when you hear your name to meet your partner." He then began reading off names as Francis waited anxiously. Eventually he called, "Francis Bonnefoy and Arthur Kirkland."

Francis jogged up, full of excitement. This Arthur, however, walked up with eyes casted down to the floor, shoulders up and in, one arm crossed across his body and his hand softly rubbing his elbow, as if he was trying to comfort himself. Francis looked him up and down, immediately practicing what he had already learned about body language.

 _How submissive,_ He thought. Maybe Francis could comfort him, "Hi," He said, trying keep his accent thin, "I'm Francis, it's nice to meet you."

Arthur practically flinched at Francis' words, but didn't answer. Instead, the shorter boy somehow made himself look even smaller and in more distress.

Before Francis could say anything else, however, his instructor spoke again, "Alright, everyone quiet down. I know you're excited, but this is sparring class, so take your stance and begin. If you have any questions, raise your hand and I will be with you in a moment."

Francis did what he was told and took his stance. Arthur did as well, but he still didn't look up to meet Francis in the eye, and his stance was weak and unstable. Francis sighed, why couldn't they pair him up with someone at the same level as him? It would be a lot easier that way. But, despite his frustrations, Francis smiled, "It's okay, I'll go easy on you." He said in a comforting tone.

Francis paused to see if Arthur would try to take the first blow, and to no surprise, he didn't, so Francis did. Francis stepped forward with his left foot, sliding his right on the floor and throwing a light punch with his left arm. A simple jab, something that could easily avoided.

That's when everything changed.

Francis had expected to hit Arthur, or for the young Brit to step out of the way with a dodge, but no. Arthur suddenly looked up, glaring at Francis with blazing green eyes as he fixed his stance to near perfection, grabbed Francis' fist and before he knew it, Francis was thrown onto his back with Arthur on his chest. _Fine,_ Francis thought, _Grappling it is._ Which was a good thing, because Francis was one of the best ground fighters in his class.

But, it didn't matter.

Because Arthur was better than him, and Francis learned that quickly. He tried to reach up to grab the Brit by his shoulders only to realize that his left arm was pinned to his side by Arthur's knee. But that was okay, there was another way out. Francis picked up his right arm in another attempt to grab him, but Arthur quickly took him by the wrist and slammed it down on the mats above his head. Francis began to panic, not yet knowing how to get out of this without his arms. His panic worsened when Arthur leaned down and pressed his forearm onto Francis' windpipe. Francis tried desperately to breathe and to somehow throw off Arthur's balance and roll them over, but as Arthur slowly added more and more pressure, it became too difficult, and finally, Francis tapped his hand on the mat, prompting Arthur to let go of him.

Arthur stood as Francis propped himself up on one elbow, bringing his other hand to the sore place on his throat. Francis looked up at Arthur as the British boy gave a taunting smile, "What?" He asked in a London accent, "Did I surprise you?"

Francis caught his breath before answering, " _Oui."_

Arthur shook his head, smiling bigger than before, "You shouldn't ever let that happen."

Francis smiled. He got the feeling that he was really going to like Arthur.

* * *

 _When I grew up I called him mine..._

* * *

Francis' jaw hurt. He had a bag over his head with a very effective gag in his mouth that kept it wide open. This hurt in different ways. One, his jaw had been open for must have been like hours now. Two, he had been captured by the enemy, which was very embarrassing. And three, his mouth was wide open, there was something blocking him from closing it strapped to his head, which meant that he was unable to speak. He could scream and make other noises, but what hurt the most was that he couldn't speak, which had become very important to him in his years of working because he was very outspoken, unafraid to give his opinion, especially to his enemies. He _loved_ to insult his enemies, and loved the look on their faces when the insult actually hurt them. Which was probably the reason why he was gagged, and this only made Francis angry, because now, all the inappropriate choice words were bottled in with no outlet.

Not that they could actually hear him. He was in the trunk. Well, for now at least. The car was stopped and there were voices right outside. Francis immediately began to scream and kick the roof, just incase the bastards were stupid enough to stop by a gas station or something like that. The trunk door swung open and not long after, a fist was forced into Francis' stomach. It shut him up fast, for he was too preoccupied with catching his wind to scream anymore.

He was then lifted out of the car and the bag was ripped off of his head. The light from the sun blinded him for a moment until his eyes adjusted, revealing a run-down building. On the bright side, it looked secluded and abandoned, which meant less people to escape from. On the dark side, there wasn't anyone around to hear them torturing him, and he doubted that anyone would be able to find his body here.

He was lead through the building until they forced him into a makeshift office, complete with a boss sitting at the desk and a few guards that were all unrecognisable, except for Arthur, the man that, through the years, he had been partners with, had gotten a whole lot closer to. In a normal life, they would be considered 'boyfriends', but in their case, 'rulebreakers'. Having any kind of romantic or sexual relationship was against their code, and if their boss found out, they would get demoted severely and separated to be paired up with someone else. Francis glanced at Arthur, and at first, he couldn't figure out why the man looked so terrified until it hit him.

Arthur had been working as a spy now, Francis being the contact to give information to about their enemy, and if they knew that Francis was being contacted, then Arthur's cover is probably blown. It had all gone to hell.

"And what is this French dog's name?" The boss said in a Russian accent.

Francis narrowed his eyes, " _Does Braginsky know you're here?"_ He tried to say, but it all came out as incoherent syllables. Ivan Braginsky was currently one of the head agents of their Russian allies, and had been dealing with a lot of betrayals and backstabbers lately, and although Francis had never met him personally, he couldn't help but feel bad for him.

"Francis Bonnefoy." One of the agents next to him said has Francis was forced down to his knees.

The Russian boss stood and strode over to him with a cocky smile. Francis glared at him as the man spoke, "Well, it's nice to meet you, Bonnefoy. I have to say, you have been quite sly recently."

Francis only answered by hardening his glare, hoping that it would somehow hurt the Russian. The Russian smiled even bigger, "Take the compliment. I rarely hand them out." He reached for the gag, "Now, Bonnefoy, if I take this off, will your mouth behave? I know how you French people love to throw insults."

" _Fuck you."_ Francis responded.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'." The Russian said, pulling off the gag.

"Now," The Russian said loudly as Francis stretched his jaw, finally feeling sweet relief, "I know what you are. You are a contact for a spy working under my nose. Tell me, who is contacting you?"

Francis sighed angrily, "And why the hell would I tell you? Because you asked nicely?"

"I don't like your sarcasm, although it does remind me of someone else in this room. What about you?"

Yes. Yes, it did. In fact, Arthur was probably one of the most sarcastic people that Francis had ever met, and no matter how much the two bantered, Arthur always won with his wit. The Russian Boss was onto Arthur, so Francis didn't dare even look at him, "What are you going on about?" He said, hoping to throw his enemy off track.

The Russian looked at him for a long moment, "Where's Braginsky?"

Francis felt his chest tighten when the man switched topics. Arthur's cover had been blown. If the Russian hadn't gotten an answer, then he would have asked more questions about the contact. He panicked inside, and prayed to god that the Russian didn't pick up on it, "How should I know?" Francis answered honestly, "I'm a lower French agent. I have no information on the Russian allies, I'm not in that department."

"You're lying." The Russian practically sang before his voice became low and agitated, "You're a high agent of that British-French program."

There was a long silence until the Russian smiled deviously, "If you are going to lie to me, then I don't want you around." Then he did something that made Francis' heart skip a few beats, "Kirkland," He called, "Come here."

Francis could feel his breathing pick up as he began to sweat. He twitched his hands in his restraints behind his back, gulping hard as Arthur stepped forward, "Yes, sir?" He asked. The Brit's expression was indifferent, but Francis could hear the anxiety in his voice.

The Russian turned to him, "Execute him at once. Right here."

Arthur only stared at him.

"Is there a problem?"

Arthur took a deep breath and pulled the pistol on his hip, "No, sir."

Arthur leveled the gun to his face. Francis looked up at him, there were so many unreadable thoughts running in those bright green eyes of his, his expression changing ever so slightly every few seconds as he hesitated more and more. Then, Francis could finally read him. He had that look of defiance in his eyes, the expression of plotting, strategizing, planning.

 _No,_ Francis thought, _Kill me. They'll get you another contact. Don't blow your cover. Kill me, please. You know how important this mission is. Just kill me._

Francis prepared himself, closing his eyes and relaxing, trying to think of something nice and peaceful before his death. He thought about the night that they had spent together before this mission. The night where they had spent their evening at nice restaurant. God, Arthur looked so happy. He was smiling and laughing, even when Francis' jokes weren't funny. Because that was love, apparently, laughing at the stupid jokes that the other makes. What Francis would give to Arthur smile and laugh like that one more-

Francis' thoughts were interrupted by a gunshot. Strange though, there wasn't any pain. Then, not even a second later, there were two more in a row before someone yelled "FIRE!" Then, it was nothing but gunshots all around him. Francis wanted to run and take cover, but for some reason, he was frozen, on his knees, eyes shut tight.

It didn't last long until the shooting stopped and everything was silent. He could hear someone pating, but he didn't know who.

"Are you hurt?"

Arthur. It was Arthur.

Francis had to open his eyes to make sure, and by god it was him, standing there with blood on him, none of it his own. Francis looked around to see everyone else dead. _Oh, god, we're in so much trouble._ He thought.

"Do you have any idea what you have done?" Francis exclaimed, "You blew your cover! You blew our mission! Why didn't you just kill me? We have agreed to this! If worse comes to worse, you kill me for the sake of the mission! You-"

Francis was interrupted when Arthur suddenly hoisted him up and into a kiss, slowly sliding his hands down behind Francis, and untying his restraints. Once his arms were free, Francis brought his hands up and cupped Arthur's jaw gently as their kiss grew more passionate. Eventually, Arthur pulled away and looked at him in the eyes with a sad expression before laying his head down on Francis' chest, wrapping his arms around his sides.

"I couldn't," Arthur sighed quietly, "I couldn't- I couldn't shoot you."

It hurt Francis to hear him sound so desperate and scared, but it was actually touching, for in their line of work, there wasn't a lot of caring or becoming attached. But, he supposed that was smart, agents usually didn't live that long.

Francis felt himself relax, and just as he was about to speak, Arthur said the words that Francis had never heard before, "I love you."

Francis, for a long time was speechless, but once he had snapped himself back to reality, he kissed Arthur on the top of his head and spoke the most sincere words he would ever say.

"I love you, too."

* * *

 _Music played and people sang. Just for me, the church bells rang…_

* * *

Arthur had never been in love more than he was right now.

It had all started when they had spent a night together while on a mission. They had just gotten to their reserved hotel room in the middle of nowhere in Austria. Their mission was going to start the following day, so they had some time to kill. Of course, they couldn't go sight-seeing, the enemy was close by, and if they had been spotted, the whole plan would have gone the toilet. So, they were stuck in their hotel room. Alone with each other.

It had seemed that they were both in a playful mood that day, but the bantering and pushing-around eventually turned into a very prolonged make-out session on one of the beds. They rolled and kissed and touched, but before it really went anywhere further, Arthur probably said the stupidest thing that he would ever say as an agent.

He was on his knees, straddling Francis, bent down over him, when he broke their kiss and said, " _Let's get married."_

It was a simple statement that was rewarded with a confused stare and a: " _Are you mad?"_ From his love, but Arthur reassured Francis that if they took the right precautions, no one would find out, and once he was convinced, Francis agreed.

" _Are you asking me to marry you, then? It wasn't really that proper."_

" _Francis Bonnefoy, the love and light of my life, will you marry me?"_

" _Oui, mon petit lapin."_

It took about a year and a half to plan everything out, but now, they were here.

It was extremely small. Just them, the priest, and a bum off the streets that they paid to be the witness, but it was still a wedding. Their vows were short, for although they were partners, things happen and they couldn't promise to be with each other for the rest of their lives, in fact, there had been rumors of the British-French program ending due to arguments among the superiors that organized it.

But that didn't matter now, because they were getting married. Francis' smile had never been bigger, never been so full with happiness. The priest was talking, but Arthur didn't really hear him because he noticed something: He was crying. It was strange, because he couldn't remember the last time he cried, not in sadness, or happiness. When he became an official agent, the proudest day of his life, he didn't cry, or when his tough, yet protective trainer, Alistair was killed in a field mission, he didn't cry.

Yet, he was crying, and yet, he wasn't embarrassed in even the slightest, because he was getting married to the man he loved.

Arthur was brought back from his thoughts when Francis said, "I do."

"I do." Arthur said back, before the priest even said his line.

Arthur chuckled at his mistake, and the priest paused before he said, "You may kiss your husband."

Arthur reached forward, wrapped his arms around Francis and pulled him into a kiss. It felt strange, kind of like trying to talk while laughing too hard, the kiss wasn't all that passionate because it had seemed that the two were smiling too big to really make it so.

They were married. After all the planning, after all the precautions, they were married. And Arthur had never felt happier.

"Congratulations." The priest said.

Arthur pulled away and glanced at him, his smile fading. The happy part was over, now it was time to… "Tie loose ends" to put it nicely.

Arthur looked to the bum, then to Francis. Francis got the message and nodded before walking in the bum's direction with a grateful smile. Arthur replicated the same smile and looked to the priest, "Thank you so much, Father, I know that this was all short notice."

The priest nodded, accepting the gratitude as he walked off, "No problem," He said as Arthur began to follow, "I love doing weddings, it always makes me happy to see others happy."

"I could imagine," Arthur replied. He looked over to Francis just in time to see his new husband walk out of the large, empty room with the bum. Arthur cleared his throat, preparing himself for what was next, "I'm not really in a confession booth, but I do have to tell you something, though."

The priest stopped and turned back to him, his eyebrows knitted in concern, "What is it?"

"I am an agent of the BFIP." He said quickly.

The priest smiled, "I don't really know what that is."

Arthur shrugged, "It's okay, most people don't, but I'll explain. 'BFIP' stands for ' The British-French Intelligence Program'." When the priest still looked confused, Arthur put it bluntly, "I'm a secret agent."

The priest nodded, "Okay, what exactly have you done?"

Arthur spoke casually, "Used sex to manipulate people, tortured people, killed people, you name the sin, and I've probably done it, and will probably do it again."

The priest's eyes went wide, fear spreading across his face, "... God-"

Arthur shook his head, "Oh, no. I'm atheist, they don't really teach religion where I'm from, I'm confessing this to you because, as agents, Francis and I aren't supposed to be in a romantic or sexual relationship, let alone _married._ "

The priest only paled in response.

Arthur continued, "And since Francis and I would get in _a lot_ of trouble if someone found out, I need to… tie some loose ends, of you will."

The priest was silent for a long time, "What do you mean?"

There was a gunshot from the other room.

"Oh my-"

"What I mean," Arthur continued as he pulled out and began loading his pistol, gaining the now quivering priest's attention, "Is the man who approved of the marriage licence, and anyone who saw it, has been killed, the marriage licence was stolen and locked in a safe underground before the government could process it, and well, there are two- or one -loose end left, and that would be you."

The priest went to run, bit Arthur grabbed him before he could get away, "HELP!" The priest screamed.

Arthur gave him a sorrowful look, "I'm sorry, truly I am. I know you don't mean any harm-"

The priest interrupted him, "I won't tell anyone! I promise!"

Arthur shook his head and leveled the gun to the man's head, "A promise isn't good enough, I'm sorry, I am, please die believing that."

Arthur squeezed the trigger.

He stood there for a while, looking down at the priest's body, and the blood that had splattered around, but he came out of his numb feelings when he felt an arm wrap around his back, and a kiss land on the side of his head. "We need to go." Francis stated simply.

Arthur only nodded in agreement.

* * *

 _Now he's gone, I don't know why…_

* * *

Francis was acting strange.

But, then again, life had been strange.

In the last year or so, the heads of the BFIP started arguing more and more, and it had made everyone uneasy to say the least. But, what's the worse that could happen? He and Francis would be forced to split up? Well, no. There had been accusations that the other side was secretly working with, or at least sympathizing with the enemy, and if he was, Arthur was too low on the totem poll to know it, and the same with Francis.

So, Francis might be working with the enemy, and not even know it. Splendid.

This has been leading to fear and paranoia among the British-French partners, which has gotten so bad that agents have been betraying each other, one killing the other in fear that they might be working with the enemy, which is leading to even more accusations between their superiors.

And, come to think of it, Arthur might be working with the enemy, and not even know it. Splendid.

Arthur and Francis had talked about it a little, saying things like, " _If you knew you were working with the enemy, you would tell me, right?"_ and replying with things like, " _Of course, I would betray them for you."_

Then, one day, Francis asked, " _Maybe we should run away."_

Arthur said no. It wasn't an option. Not everything has gone down the toilet just yet, there was still hope that this would all clear up. Besides, running away from a secret intelligence is near impossible.

It seemed that it was one of those days where Francis wanted to talk about it, because if he did, he would be quiet for a long time, until he had gathered his thoughts. They were currently driving from a failed mission, but it was time to get up and stretch their legs, for they had a long drive ahead, perhaps Francis would like to talk about it then.

They were in the middle of nowhere in Germany, surrounded by forest, a lake, and a sunset, and although Arthur stood alone by the lake, with no one but Francis around, he couldn't help but feel like something was… Wrong.

"What are you thinking about, Cher?" Francis said, walking up behind Arthur.

Francis voice sounded tired, sad, almost empty, and Arthur could only wonder why, "Nothing." He responded, trying not to show too much concern. Francis was usually open with his feelings, and it was best if he talked about them naturally, for if you tried to force it out of him, his stubbornness would get in the way.

After a while, Francis sighed and rested his chin on Arthur's shoulder, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." Arthur said firmly.

Francis paused, "If your boss told you to shoot me dead, would you?"

Arthur relaxed, "I can't kill you. You know that. I've wasted a mission because of that."

"...Right…"

Arthur couldn't take it anymore. He looked over at him, "What's going on with you? You've been acting weird all day!"

Francis smiled gently at him, but Arthur could see pain in his eyes, "Nothing, Cher, I'm just stressed. Who wouldn't be?"

Francis wasn't telling him something, but Arthur knew he wasn't getting an answer, so he looked back to the lake with a roll of his eyes.

When he did, he felt his hair on the back of his head brush up against something ever so slightly, and Arthur tried not to stiffen when he realized what it was. After all, he had been held at gunpoint enough times to know _exactly_ what it was.

"Would you look at that?" Francis asked, his voice sounding broken, "The lake is so beautiful in the sunset."

Arthur said nothing. He was too shocked too.

"I remember that date we went on so long ago back in France. You said that the five-star food wasn't so bad, but I know you thought it was delicious because of how fast you ate." Francis continued, "Then we went up to the balcony and watched the sunset."

Arthur still couldn't find words, but he knew what Francis was doing, setting up a nice memory like that. After all, who wouldn't like to die while thinking of a happy memory?

"That's when we had our first kiss, cher."

There was a long silence as Arthur reached for the gun on his hip. How he did was remarkable, Francis was standing right there, how could he not see that? Unless he did. Unless he couldn't shoot Arthur…

Despite his hopes, Arthur heard a _click_ before Francis said in a broken voice, "Arthur, I love you."

Arthur hesitated as tears rolled down his cheeks, "I loved you, too"

Arthur spun around, moving the gun at his head away with one hand as he lifted his gun in his other, leveling it to Francis' chest. No, not _leveling_ it, _pressing_ it, as hard as he could, with all the anger running inside him.

But, even when Francis was going to kill him, he couldn't kill Francis.

One thing that Alistair taught him was how to shoot, the difference of shooting for pain, and shooting to kill, and how just a change of angle, can kill or leave your enemy alive.

Arthur didn't really do it himself, but he subconsciously shot for pain. He angled the gun against Francis' sternum and pulled the trigger, before dropping the gun to his gut, angling it, and pulling again.

Francis screamed in pain as he dropped to the ground, coughing and hacking.

How _dare_ Francis do this. Why? What had Arthur done? Who gave these orders? Was Francis afraid that he had betrayed him? Was it all paranoia?

Arthur was furious now. Tears of anger and sadness rolling down his face with no sign of stopping. In his anger, he leveled the gun to Francis' face and waited for him to stop coughing and look up so he could give the final blow, so he could get revenge of the pain he was in. The wounds he had weren't enough to kill him, it hurt like hell, but he would bleed out before the actual bullets killed him.

Francis looked up, his eyes full of regret, his expression pleading, tears of pain and sorrow running down his face.

Even when Francis was going to kill him, even when he was so full of anger, Arthur couldn't kill him.

Arthur gave him one last look before tearing his eyes away, putting the gun in his holster, stepping over him, getting in the car, and driving away.

 _Arthur never trusted anyone again._

* * *

I do not own the song _Bang, Bang._

Thanks for reading! **Please Review!**


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